Jan 21 I Wrote This For You

I remember what love is, intellectually. But not in my skin. Or in taste. Or in dreams. Time has a way of diminishing both the bad and the good. Especially if he isn’t nearby to stoke the fire. This book made me feel love. Like whiplashed back to when he was here. To when he was gone. To our reunion. And to saying goodbye again.

I Wrote This For You isn’t completely about the other person though. It’s so much about you, about me, about how the protagonist ping pongs and evolves within this emotional landscape.

Where am I? I read it. And then I read it again.

You could read this book over and over and absorb new memories each time. I hope the pages thin and the edges curl. For on a book, these are the marks of love.